Theodore Odrach - Wave of Terror

Only the creaking of the floor broke the silence in the oppressive room. Several minutes went by: it must have been well past midnight. Almost in a feverish state, Kulik waited for Tarnovetsky to at last finish him off. But, incredibly, Tarnovetsky seemed to have another purpose. An unexpected glimmer came to his eye and his face softened; for a brief moment he seemed to betray a kind of humanity. Handing Kulik a cigarette, he said in a low voice, “In future, comrade, I don’t advise you to get into conflict with us. You’ll only lose.”

Kulik swallowed hard. All this was pure madness; this last remark was meaningless. He knew he must not fall into their trap. Determined not to say the wrong thing, almost without being aware of what he was doing, he began spewing political platitudes:

“There’s no reason why I should even think of getting into conflict with the regime. After all, I’m a citizen of the great Soviet Empire and my job as a teacher is to educate the young about our exciting new system and everything it has to offer. Glory to the October Revolution! Glory to Stalin!”

Tarnovetsky applauded enthusiastically. “Very well said! Yes, you have a formidable job ahead of you. You must set a precedent for others and your behavior must be exemplary. A Soviet teacher has to be a model citizen. Socialism is the goal of all workers’ movements, and it will succeed only when we stand united and work toward the common goal. Long live the World Communist Revolution!”

He walked back to sit down at his desk, opened a dossier on top of a stack of files and studied it intently.

Kulik clenched his fists and kept very quiet for fear of irritating him. An endless stream of thoughts rushed at him: was his prosecutor going to come up with some wild accusation and charge him with it? Was he going to throw him back into the dungeon? Was he intending to finish him off right then and there? Tarnovetsky was behaving as if he had already made a decision. In a flash Kulik understood that there was a plan for him, a plan that had been in the works from the very beginning. It was just a matter of time before his nerves snapped.

Tarnovetsky rose slowly from behind his desk. Incredibly, he closed the dossier and said, “I’m done with you for today. We’ll call upon you again soon. But you have nothing to worry about. When we do, it will be just a formality as it was today. You’re free to go.”

Kulik sat, dumbstruck. The investigation was over. He was free to go. Free to go! He felt like a man condemned to death who was suddenly pardoned. Escorted down to the first floor, to the exit doors, he was handed several documents and some personal items. A uniformed official led him along the cobblestone courtyard to the main gate, where he unlocked it, and set him free, like a bird from a cage

Stunned and bewildered, still trying to make sense of what had just happened, Kulik walked swiftly along the road, and then quickening his pace, broke into a run. His freedom was nothing short of a miracle.

He made his way through the dark streets, past large stone houses, and a stretch of warehouses and factories. When at last he caught sight of the Roman Catholic church tower, he realized that he was just moments away from Market Square. He had to keep moving, running away from everything, and there was no time to lose. The NKVD had let him go just to hunt him down again. They might already be on his trail and moving in on him. He must get off the streets and out of sight as fast as possible. He decided the best place for him to go would be the Park of Culture and Rest. He ran for ten or fifteen minutes. At last, entering the park gates, within seconds he found himself lost in the depths of the park’s thick pine forest. Groping his way through the dark, he could hardly discern the objects around him. Twigs and dried leaves snapped and rustled beneath his feet, and every now and then he could see long black shadows with their random outlines stretching and disappearing into the emptiness. He listened for the sound of the river. Just at that moment came the whistling of an engine, then the clanking of chains. A freighter was sailing down the great Pina, probably on its way to Kiev or Dnepropetrovsk. And at that moment he made a decision. He would follow the river, then move along its tributary, Stryy, go south, in the direction of the Carpathian Mountains, then over the mountains, to the west. It would be a long journey, some five hundred kilometers, and it would be almost entirely on foot.

As he scrambled up onto the edge of the embankment, he paused to catch his breath. Thoughts whirled through his head and he couldn’t think straight. Yesterday he was headmaster of School Number Seven and today he was a man on the run. Everything was unreal, strange and incomprehensible. The darkness bore down on him like a mass of lead and his mind became even more tangled.

As he was listening to the swirling of the river beneath him, it was only then that he became overcome with despair. He cried aloud: “Sergei! Sergei, I must go and get Sergei and take him with me. They’ll show him no mercy!”

But soon he realized it would be too dangerous, it would only result in disaster for them both. Then he thought of Marusia, of Zena, of Ohrimko…. He was leaving them all behind, never to see them again. They would stay in a land with no future, a land forever at the mercy of a ruthless despot up to his elbows in blood.

The uncertainty and sense of loss were unbearable. Feverishly, trembling all over, he burst into bitter tears, and as much as he tried, could not stop sobbing.

At last the Stryy! Kulik inhaled deeply and looked around. The sun was already starting to creep over the eastern horizon and it was just a matter of time before everything would be drenched in sunshine. He started along the shore, quickly and vigorously. He had to keep moving, staying one step ahead of the secret police. Listening to the sound of the water, his spirit lifted. He was filled with hope. He believed that his life was not over.